Fred Luo's Piece of Heaven
by Lady Jaida
Summary: (Ack. There were problems. Problems = fixed) What does Fred Luo want most in the world? Why, Gene Starwind, of course. After getting shot instead of Gene, the two of them get closer, whether Gene likes it or not. **YAOI** NEW: Part Four!
1. Bullet Wounds

I love Gene. I love Fred. I love Fred more, which is why I make Gene miserable and put him in a fic with Fred. I'm trying a new style -- more action- and dialogue- based, and less prose y. R&R! ( This fic, which for some reason did NOT upload before, now has. ;.; Forgive me. )****

Part One: Bullet Wounds

  
The first gunshot went off.

"You fuckin' idiot!"

The second gunshot, from the second gun, went off seconds later.

Two bodies thudded to the ground, one quickly and artlessly, lifeless, the second with a little whimper of pain, and a very ungraceful 'ooph' as he hit the floor.

"Ow," the second body said.

"You fuckin' idiot," Gene Starwind snarled, dropping down to his knees beside the fallen body that was, apparently, still alive enough to groan in pain. It was sprawled out on the floor, blood seeping through its dress shirt, pooling beneath its shoulder on the previously pure white tiles. 'It' happened to be Fred Luo, Gene's meal ticket, ship-parts supplier, and friend, as Gene very occasionally and very grudgingly admitted.

"The hell'd you do that for? I'm gonna kill you!"

"Won't be hard," Fred said, trying to be cheerful with a soft, pained laugh, and failing quite miserably. "Ow."

"You think you're the human shield or something?" Gene's eyes flashed angrily as he pulled open Fred's shirt quickly, jaw set into an angry, hard line.

"Didn't even pop a button," Fred murmured appreciatively, face pale. His tone, though, was humorless. Gene shot him a withering scowl as he pushed back the soft fabric, which stuck stubbornly to Fred's blood-soaked skin.  
  
"Don't go jumping at bullets for me. Never asked you to go jumping at fucking bullets for me! What kind of idiot"

"Hold me, Gene."

"Get a hold of your own God-damn self, Fred." The sharp, ragged sound of Fred's breath catching in his throat almost made Gene wince. But he had no pity for the idiot. No pity at all.

"Please, Gene?" The bullet was lodged deep in Fred's shoulder. Must have hurt like a bitch. Fred was less of a baby than everyone though, Gene mused, to still be conscious, and attempting those jokes.

"Just shut the hell up, Fred. You're gonna be okay."

"It hurts, Gene." He could have taken it without complain. 

"If you're looking for fuckin' sympathy, you're not gonna get any from me."

"Oh," Fred said helplessly, "right."

"Can you walk?"

"Maybe." Gene leaned down, pressing his own jacket against the wound to stop up the blood, which flowed too freely for his liking. Fred's face - always pale, like ivory - was a grayish color. Gene didn't like that, either.

"C'mon," Gene said, "let's get you up."

"Ow."

"Stoppit."

"No, really, Gene. _Ow_." With an exasperated sigh -- exasperated because he was worried, now - Gene wrapped one arm around Fred's waist, hoisting him up. Fred leaned heavily against Gene's chest, eyes shut, breathing labored. Gene scowled deeper, eyes narrowing.

"The hell are you trying to pull on me, Fred?"

"I'llbe all right."

"I saw the bastard comin', you know."

"Yes. I know."

"So why the _fuck'd_ you do a _fucking_ stupid thing like that for?"

"Youowe me a lot of money, Gene." The laugh died on Fred's lips before it could even begin. "Ow," he winced.

"That was fucking _stupid_."

"Yes. I know."

"I can't _believe_ you'd be so _fucking_ _stupid_."

"You're welcome, Gene."

"I'd've shot the _fuck_ outta him, never would've harmed a God-damn hair on your God damn rich head."

"Nice to see -- you care, at least, Gene."

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm supposed to fucking_ protect_ you, do remember that?"

"Yes."

"Not the other _fucking_ way around."

"Talking to me isn't really going to help, as much as I enjoy being held so tenderly. Perhaps, Gene, we should call for assistance? A doctor? Get to a hospital, if we're feeling particularly upset?" Fred choked faintly on his own words. Something coppery filled his mouth and he grimaced.

"The hell - Fred, there's fucking blood on your lips."

"So that's - that funny taste."

"Don't try and be fucking _cute_ with me, Fred!"

"Perhaps a hospital then, not a doctor" 

"Shit! Fred, cut this out."

"You talktoo much, Gene." Fred's eyes - Gene noticed how blue they were, with pain - sparkled faintly, wearily. "I'm going to - going to pass out, now. We'll laugh about it - later - say I fainted, like a little girl" Gene lifted a fumbling, awkward hand to Fred's lips, brushing the blood away.

"Keep your eyes open, Fred."

"Gene?"

"What?"

"Would you do me a favor?" Fred was light, Gene noticed, as he stood, carrying his friend, who was maybe more important than he'd previously thought, but now wasn't the time to go into that.

"Depends on what the fuck it is, Fred."

"Kiss me, Gene?"

"The hell?!"

"Please?"

"Fred, get these fucking crazy ideas out of your head right now."

"Please?"

Silence.

Those blue eyes on Gene's face were fucking unnerving, bright and focused, as if they were trying to burn holes through his skin, or something equally disturbing.

"_Jesus_," Gene hissed. "Fine. Fuck. Fine." He closed his eyes, brushed his lips lightly over Fred's brow, silk-soft hair getting in his way, tickling his chin. "There. Are you fucking _happy_, now?"

Fred said nothing, and it took Gene a moment to realize he'd passed out. 


	2. Hospital Walls

And this is part two. Not much else to say. R&R!****

Part Two: Hospital Walls

  
Fred woke feeling like shit.

"Ngh."

No, no, he woke feeling worse than shit. A bad hangover made you feel like shit. This was something where every muscle in his body told him he should definitely, definitely be dead right about then, to spare himself the pain.

"Nnngh."

His fingers didn't feel attached to his hands. 

But that was okay, because his hands didn't seem to be at the ends of his arms anymore. 

"Uhngh." 

"It's about fucking time you woke up. People were starting to get worried." 

It was harder than usual for Fred to open his eyes, as if someone had glued his eyelids shut. When he finally managed to get them open, he discovered why. Light seemed to have gotten much brighter, and was suddenly quite shockingly painful. His eyes and eyelids had teamed up together to try and keep him from discovering this disturbing change in the world around him. 

"Shit," Fred groaned. 

"Don't sound like yourself, Fred." Gene's voice was coming from somewhere to the side, and Fred's brain couldn't place a body or an image with it. 

"Well, I don't _feel _like myself, either," Fred rasped. Ow. "Rather, I feel like my incapacitated, ninety-year-old great aunt Edna, and it is certainly not very pleasant - Gene, where are you? I can't seem to...exactly...see you." Gene's face immediately swung into view, casting a wonderful shadow over Fred's face that blocked out the too-bright light. The smile Fred gave felt as pathetic as it must have looked. "Well," he said finally, swallowing down a roughness in his throat, "good morning." 

"Don't you mean good night?" Gene grinned. There was stubble on his cheeks. "It's getting on towards six-thirty, Aunt Edna." 

"Oh my," Fred murmured softly, "that means I've missed tea." 

"You've missed quite a few teas." 

"Been waiting here long?" 

"Been waiting here more'n a week." Some part of Fred's brain, the part that didn't feel slippery and useless as Jell-O, registered that as being very serious indeed, only he couldn't for the life of him remember why. 

"That would explain your sudden growth of, might I say, very masculine facial hair." 

"Yeah, Fred." 

"I have a question. And it's not about why you've chosen to stop shaving, although that itself is very questionable indeed." 

"Go ahead." Gene sounded wary. 

"Why do I hurt so much?" 

"Probably 'cause of that bullet." 

"What bullet?" 

"One you took for me." 

"Oh. ...that bullet." 

"What other bullet'd you have in mind?" 

"Where?" Fred couldn't feel any one part of his body. He was disconcerted, disoriented, and utterly confused. It was quite beyond him to begin trying to locate where it was he hurt the most. 

"The bullet, you mean?" 

"Mm." 

"Your right shoulder. Took a helluva long time getting it out, you know. You've got - really thick skin, or something." 

"I can't feel it." 

"That's a good thing, Fred." 

"Oh." Well, that made sense enough, Fred mused. "A week, you said?" 

"More'n a week, I said. You had a lot of people worried." Fred heard Gene stand, the scraping of the chair, the rustle of cloth. Light shifted before his blurry vision, distorted with unfocus. He heard Gene move, perhaps to the window, and imagined the way the redhead was now no doubt standing, hip resting against the wall, arms folded over his chest, a half-brooding expression on his face, which would be cast in the nighttime shadow. 

"Were you? Worried?" 

"_Fred._" 

"Were you?" 

"Yeah. Thought your fucking family and your fucking bodyguards were gonna kill me five times over for letting you get hurt like that." 

"Oh." 

"...but yeah, Fred, I was worried." 

"Sorry." The light on Fred's face shifted and changed patterns as Gene returned. The redhead settled down on the edge of Fred's bed, hands running through his own hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Fred felt as fuzzy as the world around him looked, too light-headed for his own good. Gene had worried about him. He didn't want Gene to worry, nor did he want to _make_ Gene worry, but it made his cheeks hot knowing all the same that he had. 

_Jesus, Fred Luo, get a hold of yourself_, he thought. 

As always, he was mooning over Gene Starwind hopelessly and helplessly, despite the time and place and how inappropriate it was to be getting all swoony on people. 

"Gene?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I'm going back to sleep now." 

"Sounds good." 

"You'll be here when I wake up again?"   
  
"Sure, Fred." 

"All right." 

"Nice to see you smilin' like an idiot again, Fred." Had he been smiling? Fred realized he must have been. His cheeks got hot once more. 

"Kiss me good night, Gene?" 

"Go to hell, Fred." Instead, Fred promptly passed out, that smile lingering for a while on his lips, even after his face relaxed in unconsciousness. 

Gene watched him for a while, torn between the urge to scowl and the urge to smile. The guy was a hopeless fool when it came to everything other than business. He was annoying, and clingy, and troublesome, and stingy with his money. And sure, Gene complained about him, and made fun of him, and sometimes turned too cold a shoulder to his advances. But it was - it was Fred, a good friend, a loyal friend, and more than just a decent guy. Pretty damn tolerable, Gene would say. Sometimes not so bad at all. 

And yeah, Gene had been worried, much more than he himself would have ever expected to be. And yeah, he felt like he was gonna have some premature gray hairs because of this incident. He'd been scared. Damn scared. He was perfectly willing to admit this to himself, but hell if he'd ever let Fred know. 

It'd give the poor guy ideas. 

_"Kiss me goodnight, Gene?"_

Yeah right. Fat fucking chance of that happening in either of their lifetimes. One of which, Gene mused angrily, Fred seemed to have done his damn best to cut very, very short. 

Gene's eyes rested thoughtfully on Fred's face. Kind of soft and delicate, like a woman's, heart shaped, his barely defined cheekbones not altogether unpleasant to look at. He had a rather decent face, as faces went. When he smiled it really wasn't so bad to look at. It made you wanna smile, yourself. And when those eyes were open they could be so bright, so intense, that it made you wonder who this fierce creature was, and where the smiling eyes of your friend had gotten off to. Fred was smart and surprisingly strong-willed, too, for someone who seemed so flighty. 

Gene and Fred had known each other since they were two years old. That was a long time to know a guy. 

You really got to _know_ him. 

"Yeah, goodnight, Fred," Gene mumbled softly, only half-grudgingly, sighing. It was because Fred was so persistent. It nearly drove Gene damn insane. But Fred was asleep now, and Gene felt free to do and say as he pleased. 

With a little resigned sound, a half-smile quirked his lips upwards as they brushed over Fred's cheek. 

Closer to his lips than his forehead was. 

"Be here," Gene promised no one at all, "when you wake up again."  



	3. A Piece of Heaven

Okay. ^^ Part Three -- later than expected, but I got sidetracked with C¦ur de Loupe. ;.; Forgive, and read and review like ya really _mean_ it. ^^  


**Part Three: A Piece of Heaven  
**

"Ow." 

"Fred, hold still." 

"Ow ow ow ow." 

"Fred, stop saying that." 

"...Ow. ...ch. Ouch." 

"_Fred_." 

"_Gene_." 

As it was, Fred was being surprisingly steadfast about his injury. Other, lesser men would have been howling in pain, by that point. Fred was just making these horribly miserable whimpering sounds. 

Gene couldn't decide what was worse. 

"Stop complaining," he growled. Fred was being surprisingly steadfast, and deserved a metal more than anything else. But Gene was not a patient man, especially not with a patient. Above all, he didn't like hearing Fred's soft sounds of pain. It reminded him of his own failure. "Fuck." Fred shifted, felt pain shoot face and fierce through his veins, and bit his lip to keep from crying out. "Shit," Gene hissed as Fred sagged against him, "you okay?" 

"Mm," Fred groaned. He took a deep breath. Tried again. "Yes. I never knew it could be so hard to just sit up, that's all." Even with Gene's strong, scarred arms wrapped tight around him, even with the comfortingly solid expanse of Gene's chest propping him up, the task was much too strenuous for Fred to handle. 

"S'enough for one day," Gene muttered, frowning darkly. 

"All right." 

"Just so you'll shut the hell up." 

"Thank you, Gene." 

"Yeah." 

Fred kept his head pillowed against Gene's shoulder, feeling contented and comfortable despite the pain. Gene was tensed and vaguely annoyed against him, the emotions easily felt through his tight muscles. Perhaps, Fred mused, it had to do with how close their bodies were. To Fred, it was a piece of heaven. 

Three days had passed since Fred had first opened his eyes. Three days, and he was still helpless like this. Gene was right. He had acted like an idiot. He wouldn't have done any differently, though, had anyone offered him money to do so. 

"You feelin' okay now?" 

"Mm." 

"No, you're not." 

"Well - as okay as can be expected." 

"Just goes to show." 

"How much of an idiot I am?" 

"Yeah, exactly."

"You know, Gene, you're getting quite predictable." Fred Luo's piece of heaven: three days of just Gene, just the two of them, alone together. "But very comfy." It was surprising how little Gene bristled at that comment. He stayed close, arms wrapped tight around Fred's waist. Fred felt giddy with bliss. He closed his eyes, nuzzling his face closer into Gene's neck. The other man stiffened, then relaxed, and shifted to accommodate him. Fred pushed his luck, and moved yet closer. 

"Fred. What're you trying to do?" 

Silence. 

"Fred." 

Silence still. 

"Fred?" 

Fred closed his eyes. His lips parted. He sighed out softly, breath ghosting over Gene's skin. 

"The hell're you doing?" 

His lashes tickled over the side of Gene's neck. He breathed in how it felt and how it smelled. Nice. Like Gene hadn't bathed in a while, but that was okay, because Gene had been there, with him. It wasn't an unpleasant unclean smell. It smelled just like Gene, with nothing to dilute the scent. 

"Fred." 

He turned his head slightly, though it hurt like all hell to do so. He was strong. He could handle it. He took a deep breath in and let another deep breath out. "Gene," he said, lips moving against the redhead's throat. 

"_Fred_." 

He was upsetting him, he could tell. His own heart was thudding so fast in his chest he thought it just might explode at any second. 

It was going to take a hell of a lot of nerve to do this. 

He steeled himself. 

He calmed his heart. 

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss right beneath Gene's jaw. 

"Shit, Fred. Stop it." If Gene pushed his friend off now, he'd hurt him. He was frozen in indecision, in confused. Nothing had ever gotten this far before. He'd kissed Fred once, twice on the lips, when they'd been younger, but the both of them had been drunk. It hadn't counted for anything. 

This was completely different. 

Gene was angry. Gene was livid. Gene was shaking with rage. 

Gene was terrified. 

"Stop it, Fred." 

Fred kissed him again. 

"Fred, I don't wanna hurt you." 

Fred moved down his neck. Kissed him a third time. 

"Fred." 

Gene's hands tightened instinctively on Fred's hospital gown. The muscles in his arms tensed, so that Fred was held closer against him. Women had done this sort of thing to Gene before - countless times before - and his body was reacting as if it were just like that, just normal like that. But it wasn't normal. It was _Fred_. 

"_Fred_!" 

With a wince, Fred pulled back. 

"Sorry," he whispered. He kept his eyes downcast, like a beaten, wounded dog. Gene realized suddenly he hated seeing Fred look like that, his eyes shaded with an overcast gray. A summer sky suddenly clouded over. It filled Gene with a certain, protective anger, that anyone could cause Fred to get so down about himself. 

"Shit," Gene hissed, "why the hell do you do this, Fred?" 

Only it wasn't just anyone who could cause Fred to get so down about himself. 

Gene was the only one who could do it so effectively. 

"I ask myself the same question," Fred said, just as softly. "A lot." 

"Shit," Gene snarled, pulling away. "I'm getting the hell out of here." 

"I know." 

"And you can fucking die in that fucking bed, for all the fuck I care." 

"I know." 

"Fucking taking bullets for me. Fucking kissing my _fucking_ neck." 

"Stupid," Fred murmured. 

"More than stupid. Pathetic." 

"I know." 

The way Fred's eyes focused helplessly on his hands before him, clouded over fully, a deep, bruised gray. 

The way Gene's neck burned from Fred's lips, no matter how he tried to force himself not to feel it. 

He slammed the door hard behind him. 

In his bed, Fred winced, and dropped back against the pillow. Gene was right. His words rang painfully true in Fred's ears. It had felt nice, so nice, to curl up against the other man, to kiss his neck and feel his arms and allow himself to pretend that it was his, all his. But it wasn't. That was where he'd made his first mistake. 

His second was in thinking heaven was _real_. 

And now he'd ruined everything. That was what he was best at, it seemed. 


	4. Hospital Bed

****Okay. This isn't how I was planning the fic to turn out...but this is the direction it chose to go in. =O I...feel bad, for doing this to Fred. ^^; Ain't that just like me. R&R, as always!

  
****

Part Four: Hospital Bed

  
Fred woke to feeling the bed shift around him, creaking the bedsprings and rustling the bedsheets.

"Mnh...?" The voice -- his own, he realized -- sounded hoarse and dry. He winced. "Whossit...?" Not fully awake, yet. He sounded like crap.

"S'me, Fred." Gene's voice, now. Something about hearing this voice struck a wrongness in Fred's sleep-muddled brain. His senses were still asleep, though, and he couldn't place exactly why this felt so strange.

"Are you in my _bed_, Gene?" Perhaps that was what was so odd, Fred mused to himself. Hmm. That was part of it, in any case.

"Apparen'ly so." And Gene's voice itself sounded wrong, not just hearing it. It was a little too slow, a little too slurred. It hit Fred suddenly, and knocked him awake quicker than a sucker punch to his stomach would have.

"Are you _drunk_, Gene?"

"Naw...not drunk."

Gene was drunk. Fred knew this for two reasons. Firstly, he could smell the beer on the air coming from the other body in the bed beside him. Secondly, he could tell by Gene's close proximity -- for if the man were sober, he would not be pressing their bodies together as he was. He would not be in Fred's bed, using Fred as a teddy bear.

Gene's hand moved over Fred's hip. He nuzzled lightly against the side of Fred's neck.

"Y'know," Gene said, "y'know," and he was stuck on that for a while, "y'know you smell good, anyone ever tell you you smell good, Fred?"

"No," Fred said carefully, "not as of late."

"Y'smell good, Fred," Gene reiterated.  
  
"Thank you, Gene."

"I mean, you smell really good, Fred. Y'know?" Fred hissed in suddenly as Gene's hand tightened on his hip. It seemed as if the redhead were trying to hold him still. A moment later he felt Gene's lips against the back of his neck as Gene buried his face against it. It was intoxicating, while at the same time rather terrifying.

"Gene," Fred said. His voice rose at the end in a rather embarrassing squeak, but Gene didn't seem to notice.

"Got soft skin, too," he was murmuring against Fred's shoulder, "soft skin like a woman, maybe. Nice an'...an' real soft."

"I'm not sure if this--"

"Shut up, Fred."

"But really, Gene--"

"Said, shut up, Fred."

"Gene, I think you're--"

"Shut. the hell. up. Fred." Fred squeaked in acquiescence because he couldn't speak, because Gene had suddenly moved him around to kiss him fiercely on the lips. He tasted like alcohol. Fred would have been triumphant in this discovery if he had even given a damn, if his mind had thought to remember to think.

_Oh. My. God._

It didn't really go much beyond that, his thought process. Just a whole lot of _Oh. My. God._ and a whole lot of wonderfully warm panic and not much else other than that sort of thing.

Because the thing was, Gene was kissing him and Fred's gut was writhing around telling him that this here was what he'd woken up to losing for years, now.

And then the other thing was, Gene was kissing him and obviously drunk off his very heterosexual ass, so that he was going to wake up and lose it again if it...

"Gene," he whispered into the junction of their mouths.

"I can do this, Fred," Gene muttered back absently, "I can do this because...fuck you. I can fuck you because you don't...mean...anythin'."

And that was it, then.

Fred couldn't say anything in reply, because Gene's mouth was still on his, this time crushed against it, giving him no room to breathe, much less to speak. Gene's hands turning him carelessly, pain in his shoulder. Gene's fingers at his hospital gown.

Gene in his hospital bed.

_Oh. My. God._

He didn't try to stop it. What should he stop it for? He was pretty sure through the haze in his confused mind that Gene was taking off his clothes and wasn't this what he had been begging for not longer ago than yesterday? 

_This. Isn't. Right._

Gene pulled his pants down real quick and maneuvered Fred up into his arms, clutching tight at his shoulders, holding him close to his own body. Gene's legs were tensed and hard with muscles, pleasant, to say the least, and it felt nice despite that wrongness that was trying to infiltrate all of Fred's mind.

"Gene..."

Tearing at his hospital gown again, ripping it open finally in annoyance.

"Gene."

Not giving a shit that he was hurt, not like Gene, definitely _not_ like him, despite how much of an asshole he could be.

"Gene."

Moving him down hard onto his lap, Fred bowing his head and his skin flushed, pressing his face into the familiar and nice side of Gene's neck.

And it wasn't so much to say that it hurt -- which it did -- but that it was a disappointment to those dreams, a miserable disappointment, while at the same time Fred knew it had to be real.

Still, he didn't try to stop it.

He made soft, muffled sounds in the side of Gene's neck as Gene moved against him and inside him. He could hear the sounds Gene was making, little intoxicatingly wonderful grunts of pleasure, soft and fast, and not too loud. Probably so he wouldn't disturb the nurses, if he was able to think that far ahead. Couldn't have a nurse coming in here and finding this. Bad for the patient. Bad for the patient's condition. Or maybe one of his men, coming in, lowering their sunglasses and raising their eyebrows in that way they had. Oddly fatherly. It was condescending, in its own right. The same way everyone was condescending to Fred Luo.

Not the same way Gene was condescending to him. Condescending like a friend. Like maybe the only friend he had thrusting in and pulling out of him now, the hospital bed creaking and the hospital bedsheets rustling around him. Gene's hands, which he could count on despite how rough they were, grasping his hips tight to move him as he pleased.

Fred, completely limp in his arms.

Okay. Do what you want with me.

_Isn't any heaven, anyway. I've been looking too hard and too long for something that -- well, you know. It doesn't exist. Not for me, anyway. So, I get this. I'll take this. Go ahead, do what you want with me._

There wasn't anything particularly spectacular, in terms of pleasure. It hurt and a couple of times he whimpered a muffled "Stop" into the side of Gene's neck that Gene either heard and ignored or didn't even catch at all.

There wasn't anything new to this sort of sex that didn't mean anything, it was almost just like touching himself and whispering Gene's name to himself in a dark room and finding climax in a blinding, white-hot flash of perfect loneliness. Afterwards, shame would flush his cheeks and tinge his heart with regret.

It wasn't long, either, and that was fortunate. Gene's senses were slowed and blurred with alcohol, his stamina perhaps not up to par. It seemed like forever, Fred mused as Gene orgasmed and all his muscles tensed and he cried out, hands gripping Fred's hips so tight they'd leave bruises to be found in the morning.

"Oh, God--!"

But it wasn't forever. It probably was around fifteen minutes.

A while later Fred realized Gene had fallen asleep because he had started snoring and his body had relaxed and that tight grip had slipped away. Fred's shoulder ached and his ass ached and his chest ached to the point of utter numbness to protect him from just what he was feeling. Yeah, okay, so it hurt. So Gene had hurt him, deeper than he had ever expected/

It was one thing to be ignored and mocked.

It was quite another to be handed this.

"Oh," Fred whispered softly, eyes closing, tears suddenly burning hot and dry at his eyelids.

"Oh, Gene." 

It tensed up in his heart and made him want to cry but he wasn't going to let himself.

The pain in the backs of his eyes was intense and he fell asleep with his hands clenched into fists, his dreams a tangled knot of darkness and sweat. 


	5. The Morning After

Go me. I wrote. I wrote more on _this_, of all things. Now read. And review. I may even write another chapter. Enjoy!  
  
  


**Part Five: The Morning After**

Sticky lashes pried themselves apart, hardly greedy, as they often were, for the sunlight they were to face. Lips, kiss-bruised, parted; a groan passed.

"Ngh."

The heavy weight of one of Gene's scarred arms was flung over Fred's waist, nestled in among the torn hospital robes. For a moment, Fred wanted to jerk free. Then, with an uncharacteristic reverence, he touched the sinew that stretched from wrist to elbow, feeling the soft red hairs, the marred skin beneath.

The night before was something Fred did not want to think about. Later, when morning faded from his head, he would have to. For the time being, Fred listened to Gene's breaths rather than his own, and nursed the hurt that encased his heart.

At the touches, Gene stirred, and Fred could not bring himself to move, still, on bated breath.

If he moved, he might hurt himself. If he moved, he might wake Gene. And, truth be told, he was terrified of waking Gene. The pain, he could handle. What might be said later, he could not.

"...wha' time 's it?" Gene mumbled out, a few odd minutes later. Fred took in a breath, and closed his eyes.

_Don't answer, don't answer don't answer don't answer, maybe he'll go back to sleep._

"...mngh...?" The groan in Gene's voice was a question, a little louder, closer to waking.

_Don't answer, don't answer don't answer don't answer, of all things, for Gene to see me like this..._

Color touched Fred's cheeks, and he waited. And he waited. And he waited again, watching late morning sunshine speckle the plain white ceiling above his eyes and praying to it, that he might be spared, granted extra time, a reprieve.

"...Jesus Christ. Fred...?"

And that was really it, then.

Closing his eyes, Fred licked suddenly dry lips and swallowed down a terrible lump in his throat, trying to find his voice which had, in the manner of deserting a crashing ship, left him completely. Perhaps, he was simply paralyzed with fear; perhaps, his muscles, in a seizure of despair, had all tightened up within him.

Oh, no, his voice was still there. Well, at least, he hoped so, because someone was talking now, and it wasn't Gene.

"Yes?" Fred heard himself say, light and airy and trying very, very hard not to care.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Fred, what the hell...?!"

"Can't trick a man into sleeping with you, Gene," Fred murmured, voice just as detached, as he felt Gene tense up against him.

"Um."

"Yes," Fred replied, "I agree."

"Um. Shit," Gene elaborated.

Fred was silent.

"And I'm supposed to fucking be looking _after_ you here, fuck!" Gene said, pulling himself roughly away.

"Ow," Fred said, pain shooting through him, between bruised thighs, burrowing up into the depths of him.

"...did I...?" Gene asked. His voice sounded absolutely as terrified as Fred himself felt.

"I think so, yes," Fred answered carefully.

"What the hell do you mean, you think so, yes?" Gene exploded. The bed shook with the force of his anger, the burst of his words.

"Ow," Fred said again.

"Fucking Christ, Fred, fucking answer me!"

"I don't really see where you have the right to be so angry, Gene. I asked you, I asked you to stop." The very undignified tremble at the end of that in Fred's voice was proof enough that Fred was telling the truth. Gene wanted to throw up.

"Shit," Gene said, stunned.

"Yes," Fred agreed, "shit."

"Listen, Fred, ya gotta believe me, that I didn't want to--"

"Didn't want to what?" Fred was bordering on hysterical. He didn't care. "Didn't want to come in here drunk out of your mind and shred my ass to pieces? Didn't want to come here not knowing what the hell you were doing and fucked me so hard into my hospital bed that you drive any memory of it at all from your mind? Well, yes, Gene; I'm sorry, too!"

"Fred, fuck, believe it or not I _don't_ want to hurt ya!"

"Well you sure do an excellent job of it, Gene," Fred answered tiredly, "but it doesn't matter now. Please. I'd like it very much, if you'd get out."

"Don't do this, Fred."

"I think I have every right to do this, Gene."

"I know ya do, Fred. Please. Don't."

"I think you have no right whatsoever to ask me that, Gene."

"I know I don't, Fred. Please. Please."

"Gene, get out."

In the silence that followed Gene could feel Fred's body trembling, rustling at the stiff hospital sheets. Gene licked his lips, closed his eyes, and tried very, very hard not to throw up. Only for Fred's sake did he succeed.

"Fred, there's blood on the goddamn sheets."

Silence.

"Fred, Christ, I didn't know what the fuck I was doin'."

Silence.

"Fred, just fuckin' talk to me, please."

Still silence.

"Fred I never want to hurt ya."

It was no surprise that there was more silence.

"You just don't get how goddamn crazy you make me sometimes, around ya!"

"And the way I behave with you is perfectly fucking sane?" Fred's voice cracked. "In case you hadn't noticed, you pathetic excuse for a man, I am in _love_ with you, and if walking all over me is what you intend to do, if making me bleed all over the sheets, is what you're going to do with that love then I'm just pathetic enough to _let_ you. So stop apologizing, Gene! I know you didn't mean it; you wouldn't touch me at all of your own accord that way, so _stop fucking reminding me of that!_"

Gene thought for a moment that maybe it had been far better before had convinced Fred, driven him to speak. Now, he felt sick to his stomach and a strange constriction in his chest.

"...I guess I'll be goin', then," Gene whispered tiredly.

"Perhaps you should," Fred said helplessly, "just leave."

"I'm fuckin' sorry, Fred."

"Leave, Gene."

Without another word, that was exactly what Gene did.

Fred lay there for a while, thinking, very hard, and crying, too, when the numbness was sliced away and all he was left with were raw wounds, both physical, and emotional.

He'd known Gene since they'd were children, young and silly. He'd been head over fucking heels in love with the idiot and his cocky, selfsure grin, since he was ten and Gene was eleven and a half. He'd spent his life thinking about Gene, doing what he could for Gene, getting into trouble for Gene, fucking up his life for Gene, getting hurt for Gene, watching his mother look away from him because all he could think about was Gene, knowing all his father wanted to do was disown him because he could not stop loving Gene. Being in love with Gene was a burden but he had been more than willing to bear it; he had loved it, had loved Gene, had ached and had cried himself to sleep nearly ever other night from age thirteen to seventeen, but it had to do with Gene, now didn't it, and so it had been worth it, to him. The pain and the hatred and the self-hatred and the inevitable despair. The way people looked at him, it was like he was some sort of basket case and, in a way, he knew damn well that he was. One grain of tenderness from the other, that was all he ever asked. One word to make him feel not like a burden but at least like a friend. But then, drunk on such small things, he knew all he would only be able to ask for more, and, like a foolish child, like the fable of the camel's nose, be denied the warmth he hungered for so greatly.

"So that's it, then," Fred told himself. "Wake up. You hurt. Get over it."

With steady hands, Fred Luo rang for the nurse.


	6. Hospital Nightmares

Uhm, you know the deal, R&R, as I crave it, and also obviously have no idea where the hell this fic is going. Whoo! Misdirection.  
  
  
  
  
  


**Part Six: Hospital Nightmares**

It felt good to walk around. You know, the sort of walking around that didn't require a nurse or Gene or someone who was being paid to look after Fred Luo like the invalid he was. It felt good to just say, 'Hey, I have to take a piss,' and, without telling anyone else, go to the God damn bathroom on your God damn own. Besides, pissing with people there was embarrassing. 

Fred Luo had decided that for a while he was totally fucking through with embarrassment. In fact, if he could wing it, he was pretty sure he would be through with embarrassment forever. Not that he was thoroughly confident in his ability to wing it; but he was damn well going to try. He and embarrassment had been for far too long far too chummy. Fred Luo had also decided, for the record, to be far pickier about who he was or wasn't chummy with. 

It wasn't that he'd stopped loving Gene. 

It wasn't that he'd stopped dreaming about Gene. 

It wasn't that he'd stopped thinking about Gene twenty-four-fucking-seven. 

You just didn't turn emotional switches on and off like that; you couldn't do it, even if you wanted to really fucking badly. No, Fred would have to wait, would have to be realistic, would have to act like a mentally and emotionally stable human being. That was going to be hard, he realized, but he was going to do it. There were plenty more fish in the sea, or something like that. Anyway, it was a famous saying. Anyway, Fred had to get the fuck over it. Anyway, Fred had to pretend to get the fuck over it. 

And Gene hadn't come back yet, which was a good sign, Fred told himself. It was a good sign because if Gene could just stay away for a little while then Fred could get over it. Fred had to get over it. Fred had to regain this neutral ground so he could pretend to get over it. 

Baby steps, Fred told himself, baby steps. That was how alcoholics did it, or something. 

"Hi," Fred said to the bathroom mirror. "My name is Fred Luo, and I'm an idiot." It didn't quite have the ring to it as 'alcoholic' would have had but it was going to do. 

"Hi," Fred said again, looking at his pinched, pale face. "For all my life I think I've been an idiot. Even when I was a baby. Shit, I was an idiot then." He laughed a little. His reflection laughed back. 

That could have been more comforting, he looked like the damn undead. 

"Boo," he said to his reflection. "You've let yourself go to hell, certainly. My, my, the cheeks need a little pinching." He dropped his hands to the sides of the sink and he surveyed his face from all angles that he could, frowning at last. 

"You are certainly a ladykiller," he told himself, "but that never got you anywhere you preferred to be, did it." 

There was a knock on the bathroom door. 

"Would you please go away?" Fred said to whoever the hell it was. "Fred Luo is having an intimate conversation with himself. He would prefer it if you didn't interrupt him. Thank you. Have a nice day." But that had broken the train of his thought, anyway. Fred sighed. 

"Actually," Gene said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "I don't have to come in. You could come out." 

"Or," Fred said, very evenly - my, look how simple and terrible he looked when faced with Gene's voice - while his knuckles got white with tension, "you could just go, and I wouldn't have to call security." 

"Don't do this, Fred." 

"You know, I think I will." 

"Fuck, Fred, you just gotta listen to me for a minute. A goddamn minute of your time." 

"No." 

"Fred." 

"Uhm, let me think about it. Hm. No." Fred bowed his head. 

"I'll break the door down, Fred." 

"Oh, my, how very manly of you. I do hope you get splinters." 

"I'm not fuckin' kidding, Fred." 

"The door isn't fucking locked, anyway!" There was the edge of the hysterical to Fred's voice, not very well concealed. It was obvious Gene could detect it. The doorknob turned. "I'm not fucking kidding either, Gene, I don't want you coming in here!" 

"I don't care," Gene replied, roughly, as he pushed the door open. Fred whirled around to face him. 

"No," he returned coldly, "you wouldn't. Care, that is." 

"I brought you flowers," Gene said. His voice was careful. "I put 'em in that vase on the table, next to the bed." 

"Why, Gene," Fred said, clasping his hands before him; the bitterness in his voice was like daggers, or ice, "how very kind of you! I do wonder if you put a little card in with them? Are they roses? I do so love roses, you know!" 

"Don't get this way." 

"What way? Oh, you mean _this_ way; I'm sorry, I'm a bit highstrung - but listen to me, rambling on and on about _myself_. Shall I call the nurse up? We could have a spot of afternoon tea and perhaps some cake and I could read the note with your flowers and everything can be peachy. Would you like that? Would that make you happy?" 

"Fred, you're getting' fucking crazy on me." 

"Gene, one of these days, you're going to figure out how to _talk_ to people like they're human beings and I will drop dead from the fucking shock of it!" Fred's blue eyes blazed and Gene blanched at the sight of them. 

"Shit," he said, low, almost sobered. 

"Yes," Fred snapped, "_quite_." 

"I've been thinkin'." 

"What a novel concept!" 

"Let me talk for a second; just let me talk for a second!" 

"Go right ahead. I'm certainly not leaping forward to engage your mouth in better activities." 

"I've been thinkin'," Gene continued bravely, frowning a little, "about what you said." 

"What, you mean the part where I made a fool of myself," Fred asked, somewhat cheerfully, "or the one where I made a big fool of myself? Or - and this is my favorite - the one where I made an _even bigger_ fool of myself? Do tell, Gene. Which one is it?" Gene ignored that, and went on. 

"Christ, Fred, I brought fuckin' flowers, I don't do that shit for anyone." 

"And I am deeply touched, Gene. I forgive you all your trespasses." Fred sank down to sit on the closed toilet, feeling very ridiculous. 

"I thought it was a joke, Fred." 

"_I_ am a joke, Gene." 

"That isn't it." 

"It damn well _is_ it, Gene. You didn't think it was a joke but you turned it into one for whatever game of machismo you sought to satisfy within yourself; you turned it into a joke because damned if I was strong enough to fight back or worthy enough of anything other than mockery." Fred lifted defiant eyes to Gene's face. "Deny that, and you can be a liar, as well as a bastard." 

"I'm not going to deny it." 

"Fuck you," Fred said. "Good." 

"I'm not here because I think I can make everything better." 

"Screw you, you can't." 

"I'm here because you deserve far better than what I've done." 

"All I wanted," Fred said softly, helplessly, "was kindness from you, Gene. I just wanted you to _like_ me because I knew you weren't going to love me." 

"You're pretty, Fred." 

"All I wanted was maybe a smile or a kind touch or a-what?" 

"You're really fuckin' pretty, Fred. You've got really fuckin' nice eyes." 

"And you have the mouth of a poet, Gene." 

"Well, at least I'm serious." Gene ran his fingers through his hair. "You come on so damn strong, Fred, you're fuckin' terrifying. But you never stopped to think about that, now did you? Shit, Fred, I don't _fuck_ guys but I think you're fuckin' pretty, what the hell was I supposed to do with that?" 

"I don't know!" Fred's voice rose to echo over the bathroom tiles. "Tell _me_, maybe?" 

"Don't get worked up like that, you're gonna hurt yourself." 

"Fuck you, Gene! Fuck you, and _fuck you_!" 

"You're normally much more eloquent than that, Fred." 

"Shit. Shit!" 

"Don't." 

"Fuck you, you can't tell me what to do!" 

"I know." 

"You don't have any fucking power over me, Gene Starwind. You son of a bitch!" 

"Leave my fuckin' mother out of it." 

"My apologies to your fucking mother!" 

"Anyway," Gene said, looking down for a moment, "I just thought you should know. Before you fuckin' went off thinking I'm some sort of all-around-the-board asshole. Thought you should know I'm only a mostly-around-the-board asshole." Gene shrugged a little. "Yeah. Okay." 

"Get out." 

"I knew you'd say that." 

"Get out, Gene." 

"But I wasn't fuckin' with you, just now. I mean, I meant it. I think you're fuckin' nice to look out." 

"And I fucking love you," Fred hissed, "don't play games with me." Another shrug from Gene's part. "Don't trivialize me. Get out. You hurt me. You've hurt me and you hurt me and you will always hurt me, get the hell out of my-out of my fucking bathroom!" 

"If you ever-" 

"I won't," Fred snapped. "Out." 

"Right," Gene said, resigned. "See ya." 

"You won't," Fred stated. 

"Okay," Gene said. 

"Out." 

"Bye." 

"Good fucking bye." 

Gene turned and left, and Fred buried his head in his hands. The bathroom was cold and his hands were cold and his feet were cold. All he wanted to do was go home, all he wanted was his own bed. All he wanted was a world that didn't have shit to do with Gene Starwind. 

Why was it, he wanted to know, that every dream he had eventually turned into some hideous nightmare? 


End file.
